


Two Times for Sporus

by Jathis



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient History, Ancient Rome, Castration, Gen, Past Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: Sporus is visited twice in his short life by people wanting to comfort himNote: Please take into consideration what happened to the real Sporus. Nothing is described in detail but it is referenced and I’ve therefore tagged for it





	Two Times for Sporus

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. How could any of this come about? Humans…how can they take something so harmless and simple and turn it into this?!”

The voice pierced its way through the blinding pain. His eyes opened and slowly focused on the figure sitting not too far away. He flinched away at first, terrified that the emperor had sent this one to ensure the castration had been completed. He stopped however when the figure looked over at him, white wings spreading from its back.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The figure moved closer and he flinched, covering his head with trembling hands. A warm hand touched him and he felt some of his fear wash away and he looked back up at the sad looking figure. “This is all my fault,” he whispered. 

“Who..?”

“I only told the little boy he should pursue an interest in music and the arts! I never meant for any of this to happen.” Aziraphale; for that was who it was of course, ran his fingers through the slave’s hair. “I know that’s of no comfort to you now but...but I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He stayed until Sporus finally lost consciousness, keeping him safe until others came in to collect him.

***

After Nero’s suicide, Nymphidius was the first. He continued to call Sporus “Poppaea” and treated him like a wife. Sporus had nowhere else to go and so he tolerated it. The man had his eyes on the throne to become the new Emperor. They all did. He was killed by his own guards.

Then there was Otho. He had been married to the real Poppaea once before Nero forced them to divorce so he could have her. Sporus sometimes wondered if things would have been better if she had been allowed to stay with her first husband. She certainly wouldn’t be kicked to death while pregnant at any rate.

Otho killed himself three months into his reign as Rome’s emperor. 

And now there was Vitellius. Sporus had heard that the whole of Rome did not see the man as emperor but he was enough of one to give commands and force people to obey him for now.

Like the order for Sporus to play the main part in a re-enactment of the Rape of Proserpina in the middle of the arena for everyone to see.

Sporus sat alone in his room, feeling ill at the thought of what was supposed to happen. He was expected to play the part of Proserpina, of course. He would be taken in front of the entire arena and be stripped and then…

“There are other ways out of this, you know. Although I’m not sure if you’ll like any of them.”

He whirled around, heart racing. Who was this man? How had he gotten into his room? He placed a hand on his chest, trying to still his heart. “Who are you?” he whispered.

“A friend,” Crowley answered. He tilted his head, looking at Sporus sadly behind his darkened glasses. “He’s got guards posted all over to make sure you can’t escape. He also took away anything that could be used as a weapon too.”

“...he wouldn’t want to risk not having a show tomorrow,” he bitterly said. He watched as the odd man nodded his head in understanding. “Can you help me?”

“I made a promise to an old friend to offer you my services,” Crowley agreed. He reached into his robes, producing a slender dagger with a snake themed hilt. He twirled it briefly between his fingers and then held it out to Sporus. “This is all I can offer you, I’m afraid.”

Sporus took the dagger from him without hesitation.

Crowley stayed until Sporus finally died, keeping his body safe until Death came to collect.

“I hate this place,” Aziraphale later whispered, burying his face against the side of Crowley’s neck. 

“I know,” Crowley agreed, rubbing his back. 


End file.
